


Peur et désir

by Kymbersmith90



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV), All Souls Trilogy - Deborah Harkness
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Ashmole 782, Daemons, F/M, Magic, Not Underage, Slow Burn, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2019-10-06 23:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17354573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kymbersmith90/pseuds/Kymbersmith90
Summary: For Diana Bishop, Oxford was the only place to get her PhD in History of Science. But an afternoon spent in the Bodleian Library studying the Ashmole manuscripts will tell her much more about herself, and the world around her, than she could ever hope to learn from her professors.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Big thanks go to @bmbbcs4evr for encouraging this piece, and giving me support as I ventured into writing for a new fandom.  
> **   
> 

Diana tightened the elastic around her ponytail before she took a step back and smoothed a hand down her shirt. To say that she was nervous was an understatement. When she’d first filled in the application for Oxford university, she’d honestly never expected to get the place.

She gave her reflection a confident nod before turning to grab the bag she’d packed the night before, from its place sat on one of the chairs at her small table, and looped it over her shoulder. Unusually for England, it appeared to be a rather nice day, but Diana had seen enough to know that the weather could turn at any moment. So she made sure to snag a light jacket before she headed from her rooms, and out of her college.

While she was nervous for her first day at the infamous university, Diana was also eager to get stuck into her course. Oxford had some of the very best historians in the world, and their manuscript collection in the many libraries around the city was unrivalled. Her passion for history had developed after spending a summer studying in England, learning about the exploits of kings and queens as she explored the city. Now that she was getting the opportunity to study for a graduate degree from Oxford on the history of science, Diana knew that her love for the subject would only continue to grow.

After all, who didn’t want to learn history at the oldest surviving university in the English-speaking world?

With her nerves carefully contained, Diana made her way through the old buildings and towards the location she’d been given for her very first lecture of the year, taking in the awe-inspiring archeology that made up the many different colleges that belonged to the university. Everything about her time spent in England so far had been completely different to her time spent at college in Maine.

Diana had completely fallen in love with the country, and all it had to offer her.

While her first lecture was more of a welcoming introduction to her course than it was educational, Diana still found every word of it fascinating. She was a little surprised to learn just how small her tutorial classes would be, but not at all surprised by the expected workload that had a few of her fellow students groaning. Diana had known that she would spend the majority of her time in the library, working on research papers and essays that were expected of her.

But that didn’t stop her from accepting the invite from a few of her peers, to head to the pub for lunch when they were finally released ninety minutes later. While she’d always thought of herself as being somewhat of a loner at times, preferring her own company to those around her, Diana was looking forward to getting to know others who shared her passion for history.

So after sending a quick text to Sarah, to let her aunt know that her first official day was going well, Diana followed Gillian Chamberlain through the bustling streets of Oxford, to one of the pubs that the student body liked to frequent, thanks to the much cheaper prices it had a reputation for charging.

“Where are you originally from?” Gillian asked, as Diana dropped down into a seat beside her new friend, with a pint of beer in hand.

“Madison, originally. It’s a tiny little village in upstate New York.”

“Moving to Oxford must have been a shock for you,” her friend chuckled, sipping at a small glass of wine.

“Just a bit. The college I went to in Maine helped, but I still can’t quite get my head around knowing that our tiny little village has about as many residents as half of New College does. That’s crazy.”

“Well… if you ever need someone to show you around, I’d be happy to do so,” Gillian offered. “I did my undergrad here at Oxford, and I grew up just outside of the city. So I know the area well.”

“Thank you. I will definitely take you up on that,” Diana promised her, before she turned her attention to the guy at the end of the table, who was calling her name.

* * *

Diana’s first week at Oxford passed by in a flurry of activity.

When she wasn’t attending lectures or tutorials she found herself spending time in the library, acquainting herself with the layout of the building, and the process of checking out the books that she needed.

And when she wasn’t at the library, she could usually be found at the boathouse.

Diana had taken up rowing during her first year of college, at a time where she’d genuinely started to believe that she might be going insane. The stress of moving away from home, and attending school in such a large city, had left her feeling off balance. She’d become depressed and withdrawn, locking herself away in her room for days on end, and only ever venturing out for lectures or class. It had gotten to the point where Diana had been convinced that she was making strange things happen around herself, as a result of her isolation.

And that was when she knew that she needed help.

After talking to one of the guidance counsellors the school had on campus, and leaving out the stranger parts of her tale, he had suggested that she should consider finding a hobby away from academia, to help her destress. It hadn’t taken long for her to fall in love with rowing. It was something she could do alone, at virtually any time of the day. And the rhythmic motions needed to propel herself across the water were more calming than the yoga she’d also taken up.

While Diana knew that she wasn’t anywhere near the standard required to join the teams that took part in the infamous boat race every year, on the Thames, she’d been welcomed into the rowing club with open arms. As a result of that, she’d spent virtually every week night at the boathouse since then.

Her second week was even busier than the first, with her lecturers and tutors diving straight into the curriculum, and setting their first series of assignments for the year. Which was how Diana found herself declining an invitation to join her friends Friday afternoon for drinks, at the same pub they’d all been to during the first week of term, and instead, heading for the legendary Bodleian Library.

Since her arrival in the city, she’d only ever stepped foot inside of the building twice. But each and every time it had never failed to leave her breathless for those first few moments. The building wasn’t just big and imposing, it was architecturally beautiful, and unlike anything that she’d ever seen in Maine.

Diana wasn’t ashamed to admit that she’d lost many hours stood outside of the building, just admiring the design. But that afternoon, as she fished her university ID from her bag, it wasn’t the brickwork that caught her attention.

“Dad?”

The man walking across the courtyard looked eerily similar to the images of Stephen Procter that Diana had taken with her, when she’d left Madison. He looked just like the pictures of him that hung on the walls of her aunt’s home. And like the memories of the man she’d kept tucked safely away inside of her mind, since the day she’d last seen him.

“Dad!” she called out a little louder, as she hurried in his direction.

A group of undergrads were making their way through the courtyard from the opposite direction, and Diana was a little ashamed of the way she shouldered through the students, as she rushed after the man that appeared to be her father’s doppelgänger. The group of people briefly blocked her view of him as she tried desperately to fight her way through them, but when she finally pulled herself free her father, or rather – the man who had looked just like him – was gone.

Diana span around in circles for a moment, checking the faces of anyone and everyone in the courtyard, as she tried desperately to spot the man who had caught her attention. But it rapidly became clear that Stephen Procter was most definitely not in the middle of the courtyard of the Bodleian Library.

Which made sense, given that he’d died when Diana was seven.

“Get a grip, Diana,” she muttered to herself, as she turned to head for the entrance of the building.

Unfortunately, she’d been far too focused on trying to find a ghost than on the people around her, and with her first step forward, Diana found herself colliding with someone large and firm.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” she apologized, as strong hands shot out to grip tightly to her upper arms, keeping her steady on her feet.

“No harm done,” he assured her, pulling back to look down on the woman who had walk straight into him.

His gaze felt like the whisper of those first few snowflakes in winter when it landed on her skin, and Diana raised her eyes slowly to meet those belonging to the man that she’d hit. When she did, she cringed a little in his hold. She might have been new to the campus, and she certainly didn’t know everyone there. But the way the guy was dressed screamed his status at her.

She’d walked straight into an Oxford University professor.

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he watched her face pale further.

Diana dropped her eyes with her embarrassment before pulling them back up to meet his gaze once more. She didn’t want to come across as rude, given how they’d met. But her head was spinning with everything that had just happened, and she was finding it hard to focus on his face.

“Yeah. I’m… no, actually. No, I’m not,” she finally declared, as she took a staggering step back. The professor’s arms shot out once more to keep her steady on her feet, as his brow creased with his concern. “I uh… I think I’m just gonna go back to my rooms,” she told him, suddenly eager to get away from his piercing stare. “I’m sorry again.”

Diana turned on her heels before he could say anything else, leaving his arms to drop back down to his sides as his eyes followed her all the way across the courtyard, and down onto the path outside.


	2. Chapter 2

The strings were tightening around Diana and she struggled against them, trying to dislodge enough of them to fight her way free. But every time she writhed, they seemed to tighten impossibly further, until she was fighting for breath.

Diana gasped as she woke with a start, struggling against the sheets pulled over her legs as the remnants of her dream slowly faded. She’d been having the same one since just before her parents had died, but it had been _years_ since she’d last experienced it.

After spending twenty minutes trying and failing to get back to sleep, she gave up, and decided to head over to the boathouse. She knew she’d be exhausted by the time her classes finished later that afternoon, but she was hoping the calmness of the river would help to clear her mind, and let her focus until she could finally crash again.

A dreamless sleep came easily for her later that evening, and Diana was incredibly grateful for it.

* * *

It was almost a week later when she found herself on the way back to the Bodleian Library once more. Diana was a little ashamed to admit that she had been avoiding the place, after what had happened in the courtyard the last time she’d visited.

But there was only so long that she could stay away for.

So with Gillian by her side, she made her way through the glass doors and up to the third floor, where the Duke Humphries reading room was located, without any more ghosts from her past crossing her path.

The two women took a place either side of one of the long reading benches and pulled out their laptops, allowing the devices to load while they filled in the request slips for the books they would need that afternoon.

For the first hour or so they worked in silence, occasionally trading books when they found something that they thought the other should read, before going back to their own papers. It was easy and familiar, and Diana appreciated that. She’d always taken great comfort in spending time in the library back in Maine, and she was happy to see that what had happened the week before hadn’t managed to ruin that for her in Oxford.

After finishing the paragraph she’d been working on, Gillian pulled the screen down on her laptop and whispered to her friend that she needed to call her mother quickly, before making her escape from the building. Diana watched her go before turning her attention back to the book she’d been studying. She was so close to finishing the research needed for her essay, and if she could get it done that afternoon, she had promised to reward herself in the form of a night out with her friends.

“Ancient history?” a familiar voice asked softly, and Diana lifted her head to see an equally familiar face staring down at the discarded book by her left arm.

“Professor…” she trailed off, realizing that she had no idea what the man’s name was, as she stared up at him. She hadn’t noticed just how tall he was, when she’d first ran into him. Nor had she realized just how handsome he was. His eyes flashed a unique shade of blue-grey when they caught the light streaming through the windows behind her, which only served to highlight the sharp angles of his jawline. His hair was dark and lush, the kind that made sane people wish they were all hairdressers, just so they’d have an excuse to run their fingers through it. And although he was dressed head-to-toe in black, Diana could sense the power underneath the fine wool and silk of his clothing. The kind of power that came from carefully defined muscles and years of training.

“Clairmont,” he replied slowly, as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Professor Clairmont.” He slipped long fingers into the breast pocket of his jacket before withdrawing a small business card, that had his name and contact details printed onto it, along with a string of letters that told Diana the man had an impressive educational background.

“I’m sorry again about last week, Professor Clairmont. I was feeling a little unwell, and wasn’t quite myself.”

“That okay,” he assured her. “I just wanted to check that you were feeling better. You didn’t seem terribly steady on your feet when you left here. I was half-tempted to follow you, just to make sure that you got back safely.”

“I did, thanks. And it was nothing a good night of sleep and some time on the river couldn’t fix.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Professor Clairmont straightened up a little at the sound of a door opening in the distance, and quickly withdrew his hand from where his fingers had been tracing the golden letters of the title on the book closest to Diana’s arm. “I’ll leave you to your studies, Miss. Have a good day.”

“Bishop,” Diana called out, a little too loudly given her surroundings, and the glares she got from fellow academics in the immediate area. “It’s Bishop,” she explained, when Clairmont turned back to look at her over his shoulder. “Diana Bishop.”

An odd look seemed to cross his face, but before Diana could ponder too much on the cause of it, he slipped back into the neutral expression he’d been wearing before. “Enjoy ancient history, Diana Bishop,” he replied, before disappearing out of her line of sight, just as Gillian made her way back through the room to take her seat once more.

“I’m sorry about that,” the redhead whispered, as she opened up her laptop and pulled out her notebooks again. “It’s my mother’s birthday today, and I wanted to catch her before she left for work. But once she’s on the phone, I can _never_ get her off. Is everything okay?”

Diana shook her head a little to dislodge the thoughts of Professor Clairmont that were currently filling it, before she turned her full attention back to her friend. “Yeah, sorry. I just got lost in my own mind for a moment,” she chuckled. “Did you wanna do another hour here and then grab a drink together? You can tell me all about your mom then.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan to me,” Gillian whispered back, before turning her full attention to the paper that she needed to finish before the end of the week. The last thing she wanted to do was fail one so early into the term.

Diana did her best to do the same, but she couldn’t seem to shake the image of Professor Clairmont’s small smile from her mind enough to focus on finishing her work that afternoon.


	3. Chapter 3

“So, tell me about your parents,” Gillian invited, as she sat a glass of wine down for herself, and then handed Diana her own.

“There isn’t really much to tell,” she whispered sadly, staring down at the glass cupped between her hands. “They died when I was young, so I don’t really have very many clear memories of them.”

“Oh God. I’m so sorry, Diana. I had no idea.”

“It’s okay. You weren’t to know,” she assured her friend. “I was raised by my aunts, but we never really had a traditional kind of relationship either. I still call them Sarah and Em, instead of Aunt Sarah and Aunt Em. What about your family?” she asked, in an attempt to steer the conversation towards safer grounds.

“It’s just me and my mum,” Gillian explained. “My dad took off when he found out that she was pregnant with me. But it’s okay. We get along well, and we’ve got a lot in common. So that helps. I think she misses not having me in the house, though.”

Diana nodded her understanding, because even though Sarah and Em had each other, she knew that they missed having her around too. Sarah wasn’t the best at voicing her emotions, but Diana could hear the wistful tone her Aunt’s voice developed, every time they spoke on the phone.

“We uh… we’re pagans,” Gillian randomly added, almost like she was testing her friend’s reaction to the news. “So at least I’ll be able to see her soon, when we celebrate Mabon.”

“Really? My aunts are pagans too, so they raised me as one. But I don’t really follow any of their traditions anymore. Small world, huh?”

“Why did you stop following the traditions?” Gillian asked, genuinely curious about her friend’s nonchalance over the subject.

“I’m just not sure how much I believe in that sort of thing,” Diana argued. “I remember that my mother always used to tell me bedtime stories about witches and princes. She was convinced that there was magic in this world, and that it was beautiful. But after she died, I guess I stopped seeing it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fascinating to study. But I think that’s probably as far as my interest in that kind of thing lies. Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be,” Gillian assured her, as she drained the last of her drink. “We’d be very boring people if we all thought and believed the same things.”

Diana nodded her head in agreement, but she could tell that her friend wasn’t being completely honest with her. Something about her answer hadn’t been what Gillian was expecting, and she honestly couldn’t put her finger on why.

She gave up trying when she felt a familiar, cool fluttering sensation along the back of her neck. Diana didn’t need to turn her head to see who was watching her. She had only ever felt that sensation once before. But when Gillian stood up to excuse herself and headed for the bathroom, she couldn’t help but shift slightly to give herself a better view of the pub.

It had gotten much busier since the two women had first arrived, and the tables were now filled with small groups of students and faculty, chatting amongst themselves as they sipped at cheap beer, or glasses of wine. But it was one of the tables along the back wall that caught her attention, along with the familiar face sat at it.

Professor Clairmont was positioned between a man and a woman that Diana had never seen before, with a glass of deep red wine in his left hand. His head wasn’t turned her way, and he looked for all intents and purposes to be fully focused on the slightly younger man to his left, who appeared to be telling a rather animated story. But Diana could tell that the professor’s full focus didn’t lie with his companions.

She could still feel the cool whisper of his gaze as it passed over her body.

“Sorry about that. Did you want another?” Gillian asked, pulling Diana’s attention away from the table at the very back of the room.

A part of her wanted to say yes, just so that she could continue to observe Professor Clairmont as he interacted with his colleagues. But the more rational side of Diana’s brain reminded her that she still had deadlines to meet, before the week was over.

“Maybe next time?” she offered, as she drained what was left of her wine and stood to grab her jacket from the back of her seat. “Do you wanna head back with me, or are you staying?”

“Ugh, I guess I should be a responsible adult and finish this essay,” Gillian sighed, as she reached for her own coat, and followed her friend from the building.

The effects of Professor Clairmont’s icy stare followed Diana all the way back to New College, before finally wearing off in the warmth of her room.

* * *

_“It’s time for bed, Diana.”_

_The young girl finished brushing her teeth and dropped the brush back into the little cup that sat on the side of the sink. After wiping her mouth with a soft towel she ran through to her bedroom, where her mother and father were already waiting for her._

_“Will you tell me a story?” Diana asked, as she climbed up onto the old wooden bed, and underneath the patchwork quilt that her mother had made, while she was pregnant._

_“Of course,” Rebecca Bishop chuckled. “Which one do you want to hear tonight?”_

_“Tell me about the prince again,” she begged, reaching for her beloved stuffed bear to cuddle him close to her chest._

_The stories about the dark prince and his witch had always been Diana’s favorites._

_“Okay.” Her mother took up her usual position at the side of Diana’s bed, as her father slipped quietly from the room and down to his study. “Once upon a time, there was a little witch with a great deal of power…”_

* * *

The way the breeze blew the loose strands of her hair around her face, as she pulled and then pushed her way through the water, had always been one of Diana’s favorite parts of rowing. She liked to close her eyes and just let the familiar movements guide her, as she made her way smoothly down the river. It was the perfect opportunity to switch off completely, leaving the troubles of her life behind as she simply focused on making those instinctual movements to get herself from point A, to point B.

But that morning, as she sped under Donnington Bridge, something tugged at the edges of Diana’s awareness. Her eyes sprung open just in time to pick out the figure of someone stood above her, shrouded in the early morning darkness.

To anyone else, the sight probably would have been startling. But Diana wasn’t scared. The icy brush of a familiar gaze had all of her instincts screaming that she was safe. So she simply closed her eyes once more, and lost herself in the serenity of the early Oxford morning.


	4. Chapter 4

“You should be out celebrating, Diana. Not stuck in the library all day.”

Diana sighed as she shifted the phone against her ear. She knew that telling her aunt about her new Pagan friend, and Gillian’s offer to join her family for Mabon celebrations, would be a bad idea. But Sarah had been so worried about Diana settling in to life in Oxford, and she had hoped that it would put her aunt’s fears to rest.

“I think you’re doing this whole guardianship thing wrong,” she chuckled. “Aren’t you supposed to be encouraging me to study, rather than going out to a party?”

“All you ever do is study. A little partying wouldn’t kill ya,” Sarah threw back at her.

“Yeah, well… I can party when I’ve handed in this proposal. Speaking of which…”

“You should get back to the library,” Sarah finished for her. “Try not to spend all night there.”

“I will do. Have fun celebrating and send my love to Em.”

“Talk soon,” her aunt promised, before disconnecting the call.

Diana took a moment to just enjoy the silence in the courtyard of the Bodleian Library, before she pocketed her cell phone and headed back inside.

It was September twenty-third, the day of the Autumn equinox, also known as Mabon for the Pagans. Gillian had mentioned a gathering that her extended family was hosting to mark the occasion, and had invited Diana to join them for the evening.

While she appreciated the offer her friend had made, Diana wasn’t much in the mood for celebrating a day she didn’t really find all that important, with people she didn’t know. She hadn’t wanted to offend her friend, however, so she’d offered Gillian a solid ‘maybe’. That ‘maybe’ became a concrete ‘no’ when one of her professors requested a research proposal draft the week after the celebration. Diana had been thrilled to finally get the opportunity to throw herself into the area of work that had fascinated her the most, and so, she’d decided to spend Mabon in the Bodleian, fleshing out her proposal with references and quotes, so that it would stand a greater chance of being accepted.

She was surprised to find just how empty the large library was, on a Monday evening. It was only a little past six, but as Diana made her way back to the Duke Humphrey’s reading room, and the place she’d been camped out since her lectures for the day had ended, the only other person she saw was Sean, who worked the call desk.

Either there were more Pagans in Oxford than she’d expected, or the student body had thrown one hell of a party that weekend, and were busy sleeping it off.

Diana made herself comfortable once more as she began working her way down her to-do list, ticking off the books and quotes that had come to mind as she’d began formulating her research proposal. Every now and then Sean would interrupt her with a small smile and another old manuscript, tucked safely inside its grey cardboard sleeve. She would offer him a smile of her own, along with her thanks, as he whisked away the books she’d finished with.

The hours seemed to fly by, and as the library began to darken, Diana’s to-do list started shrinking while she fleshed out her proposal.

About half-way down her list was a small quote from the book Notes and Queries, that Diana knew she’d find on the upper shelves. A quick glance around her showed that the reading room was still empty, and she knew she’d feel bad sending Sean a message, asking him to come and get the book for her, when she was closer than he was. So she stretched her legs to work out the aches that had developed from being sat still for so long, before heading for the spiral staircase.

It didn’t take her long to find the section where she knew the book would be located, and Diana scanned the many spines on display in search of her target. Of course, it happened to be tucked between two black, leather bound books, on one of the shelves that was just out of her reach.

With a slight huff of frustration she abandoned the books for a moment to scan the area for the step stool often used for such situations, but let out a much louder sigh when she realized there wasn’t one in sight. Given the size of the library, Diana knew it would probably take her longer to hunt one down, than it had to locate the book to begin with.

“Typical,” she mumbled to herself, as she pushed up as high onto her toes as she possibly could, before stretching out her arm to try and get some kind of purchase on the book. Diana grunted a little with the effort, but every wiggle of her fingers seemed to inch them just that little bit closer to her target.

She’d just managed to get her thumb and index fingers around the covers, when she felt a familiar flurry across the small of her back.

Diana twisted around in shock, the book flying from her grasp as it went sailing over her head, and landed perfectly in the waiting arms of Professor Clairmont, who was staring up at her with confusion written all over his face.

“Shit,” she cursed. “I uh… I didn’t mean to do that.” Diana wasn’t entirely sure how she’d done it. She didn’t think her grip on the worn leather had been tight enough to pull it from the shelf, let alone throw it over her head.

“What _did_ you mean to do, Miss Bishop?” he asked, his head tilting slightly to one side as he surveyed her carefully. Diana brought her arms up to wrap around chest in an attempt to shield herself from his piercing gaze.

“I uh… I dunno. I was just trying to get the book,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders slightly. “I wasn’t trying to take you out with it, or anything.”

Professor Clairmont cracked a small smile at her follow up. Almost like he knew that it would take more than a grad student and a textbook to do some serious damage to him.

“Nice catch,” she added, suddenly needing to fill the loaded silence between them. She had a feeling that the professor was looking for one answer in particular from her, but she didn’t have a clue what it was. “You have excellent reflexes.”

“Yes, I do,” he agreed, as he finally turned the book over in his hands to read the title from the spine. While he was distracted, Diana used the time to make her way down from the upper floor, and over to where her work was spread across a bench.

But Professor Clairmont made it there before she could, sitting the book gently down into the free space to her left, where she’d sat every book she’d been reading that day, as his fingers trailed over the notes and manuscripts already open there.

“Alchemy?” he asked, raising his eyes to meet hers.

“Yeah. I uh… it’s always fascinated me.” Diana shrugged her shoulders, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her choice of research proposal.

“It’s a very fascinating subject,” he replied, turning his eyes back to her notepad. He gently pushed aside the to-do list resting on top, to read her scrawled plans beneath it. “Impressive,” Professor Clairmont declared, before straightening up and taking a small step back.

Diana flushed a little at his compliment as she brought a hand up to push her hair back behind her ear.

The professor’s eyes followed her movement, and he swallowed heavily before he spoke again. “Is there anything else you need help reaching before I leave?” he asked. “I’d hate for you to take out someone with slower reflexes than my own.”

Diana couldn’t stop the chuckle that left her lips at his words, even as she shook her head. “No. Thank you, Professor. I’m sorry to have ruined your night.”

“You didn’t,” he assured her, before striding confidently out of the reading room. The slap of his fine leather shoes against the hardwood of the floor echoed throughout the empty room with every step he took away from her, matching the thrumming of Diana’s heart in her chest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sorry for the delay in posting this one. I ran into a few technical troubles.**

Matthew Clairmont watched as Diana Bishop finally left the library and made her way back to her rooms, before following behind her at a safe distance.

Ever since she’d walked into him in the courtyard a few weeks back, he’d been curious about the young woman. Something about her had struck him as odd during those few seconds where he’d held her in his arms, but she’d fled from the library too quickly for him to work out what it was.

Later that same week, he’d heard whispers amongst the student body that there was a Bishop witch in Oxford, and his curiosity had piqued. The Bishops were an ancient and powerful line of witches, but Matthew was certain that he’d have sensed someone with that kind of magic the moment they’d crossed the county lines. So he'd brushed it off as nothing but idle gossip and tried to go about his days as normal.

Until he saw her again.

He’d been at the library looking for a manuscript, the same as he had been the last time he’d seen her. But this time, she was sat at a desk, working away on a paper she’d been set with a witch sat opposite her. Matthew had made himself as invisible as possible as he’d listened to the two of them converse in hushed whispers. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that her new friend, the redheaded witch, was trying to pull information from Diana.

He just didn’t know why.

So when her friend excused herself to make a call and headed out of the library, Matthew made his move. He’d only intended to check over the books Gillian Chamberlain had left open on her side of the bench, under the guise of checking over a student who had seemed so off-balance the last time they’d met. But something about the young woman had kept him lingering by her side for far longer than he’d intended.

And then she’d told him her name.

Diana Bishop.

She was the one the witches had been whispering about.

There was something very odd about Diana Bishop. She didn’t smell like any witch he’d ever met before. Instead of the sage, sulphur and henbane her friend was giving off, Diana smelled of something softer… sweeter. Honey, he realised after a moment. And underneath that was something more complex. Combinations of scents he’d never experienced before, and others he thought he would never get to experience again.

But what was even stranger was that Diana Bishop hadn’t reacted to his presence. He knew that her friend was aware of who he was. Of _what_ he was. As were the other creatures in the city. But Diana gave absolutely no indication of that. She didn’t cower in fear around him, as so many others did. And she wasn’t trying to push him away either.

Which left Matthew wondering if Diana Bishop really knew who she was.

He tried to shake off the puzzle the witch had presented as he returned to his lab, losing himself in the work that needed to be done there before the following morning. But thoughts of Diana’s status continued to plague him until he’d snapped at Miriam that they were going for a drink.

She’d arched a perfectly plucked brow in his direction at his tone, but one look at Matthew’s face had told her this wasn’t the time to question her colleague. So she’d followed him to one of the pubs that the students in the city liked to visit, where Marcus had already been waiting for them. Once inside, the two vampires had again followed their friend as Matthew guided them over to a table that he seemed to deem necessary for their gathering.

“Is there any reason in particular that we’re here today, Matthew?” she snapped, looking around herself. There were a great many places in Oxford to enjoy a good bottle of Merlot, but this was certainly not one of those. And the Merlot was one of the worst she’d ever consumed.

“I’m following a hunch,” was all he said.

Miriam tried her hardest to work out what that hunch was, but eventually gave up trying and instead, made conversation with Marcus as Matthew sat between the two of them brooding.

When he eventually left with a curt, “See you both tomorrow,” neither of them bothered to follow him. It wasn’t the first time Matthew’s mind had been stuck on a puzzle he was trying to solve, and they both knew that it wouldn’t be the last.

But this puzzle… this puzzle was one that just wouldn’t let go of him.

Matthew followed Diana Bishop and her friend back to New College and then watched from a safe distance as the maybe-witch made her way up to her own room. He told himself that he was only staying to see if she performed any magic while she was safely locked away inside of the small space, and away from prying eyes.

However, even after she’d turned off all the lights the regular human way, and climbed into her bed, Matthew had remained in place, watching as she slept.

He’d finally left the rooftop of a nearby building that he’d been perched upon all evening when Diana Bishop left her college early the following morning. It was far too early for her to be headed to a class or lecture, so he followed her path, leaping from roof-to-roof as she made her way along familiar streets and down to the Oxford University boathouse.

He watched as she carried her own shell and oars down to the riverside, balancing the pieces carefully on her right shoulder, before she lowered the boat down onto the water, and carefully climbed inside. With a gentle push she eased herself away from the bank, and out into the middle of the river.

Diana Bishop was a skilled rower, and Matthew had to admit that he admired her abilities. He never would have guessed that she was such an athlete, given the baggy clothing that she had a habit of wearing on campus. But even as she glided along the river, with her eyes closed and a small serene smile on her face, Matthew saw no hint of anything supernatural about the witch.

So with one last glance at her as she passed underneath the bridge he was stood on, he finally turned and headed for home.

* * *

Matthew tried to push thoughts of the Bishop woman from his mind and continued focusing on his work for the rest of the week. When whispers of Diana’s lack of magical abilities began to grow around the city, it became harder for him to ignore the mystery she was presenting.

The witches had invited her to join them for Mabon celebrations, but she had declined, citing a need to finish her research proposal instead. It was a perfectly acceptable excuse, but it didn’t stop them from wondering if maybe the tales they had been told were false.

Matthew wasn’t really sure what made him leave his lab at sunset that evening, and head for the Bodleian once more. But as soon as he entered the building he could smell her. That sweet scent of honey was wafting through the space, mingling with the wood of the desks, the pencil shavings, and the old leather that often came from the library. However that evening, it was missing the usual confusing scents of the hundreds of humans that made use of the facility every day.

Diana Bishop was sat at her usual bench in the Duke Humphries reading room, carefully turning pages of an old manuscript in search of something. He watched as she paused every now and then to read a passage that caught her attention, occasionally making notes on a piece of paper, before she finally got to the section she needed. She’d read for longer, typing out summaries on her laptop as she did, before shutting the book and sliding it safely back into its protective box. And then she’d pull the next manuscript towards her, and repeat the process.

It was oddly calming to watch.

When she stood to stretch out her muscles, Matthew pushed himself further into the darkness, making sure that she wouldn’t notice him. He wasn’t sure how he’d explain stalking a member of the student body if she ever caught him doing so.

But the youngest member of the Bishop family was far too distracted by her work to notice the vampire following her.

Instead of returning her books as he’d expected, Diana made her way over to the spiral staircase in the corner of the room, and carefully climbed it up to the second floor. She took a moment to browse through the spines in one particular section, before finally releasing a huff of frustration.

Matthew took a small step forward as he saw her gaze move away from the book she needed, to scan the space around her. Whatever she was looking for was clearly out of her reach.

“Typical,” she mumbled quietly, before turning back to the bookcase and pushing herself up onto her toes. He watched as she stretched her fingers out as far as they could possibly go, aiming for the spine of _Notes and Queries_ , but she was a few inches too short of reaching it.

Matthew had just made up his mind to step into the room and offer his help when he saw it. Diana’s body lit up from within, giving off a blue glow that was so bright it was almost white. The smell of electricity in the air was overwhelming. If there had been any other creatures in the library that evening, Matthew knew they’d have all been drawn to her. Like the proverbial moth to a flame.

He hadn’t seen a witch that radiant in centuries.

As the glow reached its maximum intensity, Diana’s feet began to rise from the floor, slowly pushing her up those last few inches she needed to reach her target. But something startled her, and with alarming accuracy the book she’d been reaching for flew off the shelf and over her head, aiming straight for him.

“Shit,” she cursed. “I uh… I didn’t mean to do that.”

“What _did_ you mean to do, Miss Bishop?” he asked carefully. The light around her was fading now that she was no longer using her magic, but something inside of Matthew was beginning to fit the pieces of the puzzle that was Diana Bishop into place.

“I uh… I dunno. I was just trying to get the book,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders slightly. “I wasn’t trying to take you out with it or anything.”

Matthew cracked a small smile at her words. As if a book the size of the one in his hand could do any damage to a vampire. Which she would know, if she knew what he was.

“Nice catch,” she added. “You have excellent reflexes.”

“Yes, I do,” he agreed, turning his eyes down to the book to give himself a chance to escape her gaze. There was something strangely captivating about the way her eyes would meet and hold his. Nobody outside of his family and closest friends had done that in centuries.

No ordinary witch would ever dare.

Which was why Matthew Clairmont was absolutely certain that Diana Bishop was no ordinary witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You can also find me on Tumblr at @kymbersmith-90, if you're so inclined.**


	6. Chapter 6

After the events of Mabon evening, Diana didn’t see Professor Clairmont again for almost two weeks. She kept her eyes peeled for him every time she was close to the Bodleian, but the enigmatic professor was never anywhere to be seen.

However, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t around.

She’d taken to scheduling her rowing every morning, before her classes and lectures began, and before the university’s teams could fill the river. It was the time of the day where Oxford was still shrouded in darkness, with only the edges of the city feeling the warming kiss of the day’s sunlight. There was something so peaceful about being on the river that early in the morning before the cars began to flood the city with their noise and fumes.

Diana would close her eyes and allow herself to glide over the water, letting all of the stress from her days melt away until all that was left was the serenity of the moment.

And that cool brush of a familiar gaze across her body.

The first time she’d felt it after Mabon, her eyes had sprung open and she’d searched the riverbanks for the familiar figure she was expecting to find there. But all she’d been able to see was a slight blurring at the corner of her eyes.

Three days in she’d given up trying.

Diana was certain that Professor Clairmont was watching over her in some way. She didn’t know _how_ he was doing it, but she knew he was. And something about that knowledge made her relax back into her strokes instead of tensing up with unease. Her gut had told her right from the start that Professor Clairmont was someone she could trust. And it had never steered her wrong.

* * *

If Diana had thought that Monday evenings in the library were quiet, that was absolutely nothing compared to Saturdays.

Gillian was at a pagan festival that weekend, and the student body had seemed to collectively decide that with exams still so far from their minds, Saturdays should never be spent in the library. But not Diana. She loved the silence the Bodleian carried when it was so empty. Without the regular tapping of fingers on keys, or the scratch of pencils against paper, the books seemed to hum with their endless possibilities.

Every now and then she’d find herself needing to return something to one of the bookcases on the upper level, and as she did, another book in the most random of places would catch her attention, practically vibrating with its need to be in her arms. Every single one of them had proven to be key to Diana’s research proposal, and she couldn’t have been happier about how well things were pulling together for her.

Diana was hoping to make her way through the first six items on her list that day, so after filling in a request slip and handing it over to Sean at the call desk, she busied herself with pulling out her notepad and laptop and getting herself set up.

A faint sound of chattering drifted through the still air of the Bodleian and Diana turned just in time to see Sean headed her way, with a pile of manuscripts balancing precariously in his arms.

“Did an influx of students just come in?” she teased.

Sean sat the books carefully down on the table before he offered her a curious look. “It’s just you and me in here tonight, Diana.”

“Huh.” She could have sworn that she’d heard people whispering together. Shaking her head a little to clear it she thanked him for the books and then turned her attention to sorting them into the order that she’d be using them.

The moment she slipped the first of her manuscripts from its case, Diana knew that something was wrong. As her fingers brushed over the leather covering it, her skin prickled like there were thousands of tiny pins embedded in the material. And a slightly iridescent glow seemed to be coming from the edges of the pages, illuminating the many scratches on the old bench that she was sat at.

Diana’s instincts were screaming at her to put the book back and move on. She could complete her research without it. But her mind was urging her to open it up. To discover the secrets hidden inside of it, that made the book hum so much louder with its hidden potential.

Making up her mind, she reached for the manuscript once more, ignoring the goose pimples that erupted over her flesh as she did, before gently resting it into one of the library’s cradles. Her fingers trembled ever-so-slightly as she loosened the brass clasp, and the book seemed to open with a soft sigh.

Diana’s brow creased as a strange scent filled the air around her, making her stomach churn. She bent her head forward a little and sniffed at the edges of the pages, before recoiling back. The book smelled odd. Unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

No… that wasn’t exactly true.

Diana could vaguely remember something similar from when she was younger. She’d been in her father’s study, looking through the pages on his desk. But she couldn’t remember what they had contained or why she’d been doing it. All she could remember was that strange scent now filling her senses.

Maybe that was why the manuscript had left her feeling so shaken? It was triggering long forgotten memories from inside of her, and Diana wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to relive them.

Turning her attention to the document she already had opened and labeled as Ashmole 782, she pushed thoughts of her father’s study aside and began making notes on the appearance of the book.

When she’d finished the first of her tasks, Diana eased the cover open to begin assessing the worthiness of the manuscript. The first page was rough paper, but the second was made from parchment and had two inscriptions written upon it.

_‘Anthropologia, or a_ treatis _containing a short description of Man.’_

There were no doubts in her mind that the first had been written by Elias Ashmore himself. She’d been slowly making her way through the Ashmole Manuscripts, so she knew his handwriting almost as well as she knew her own.

_‘In two parts: the first Anatomical, the second Psychological.’_

The second part had been written in pencil, in a hand that she knew she’d seen before, but Diana simply couldn’t place it at that moment. It looked to have been added after the first, so she took a moment to briefly note her observations before she lifted the page ready to study the next.

The parchment was heavy in her hands, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. And as she gently turned it over that scent of _wrong_ filled her nose again. She made another quick note about the weight of the pages in her document as she tried her hardest to push aside the feelings that were building inside of her.

The turn of the page revealed that the next three were missing from the manuscript. Someone had taken a great deal of time and care to remove them from the binding, and she frowned a little at why a person would feel the need to do so.

What could Ashmole 782 have possibly contained that would make someone want to destroy the manuscript?

Shelving that thought temporarily, Diana turned her attention to the first illustration on the remaining pages and gasped in surprise. The image was incredibly well preserved, with its bright colors leaping from the parchment. Whoever had drawn it was incredibly skilled, that much was clear. But the image was flawed!

The caption described it as the philosophical child, but everything Diana has learned so far about alchemy told her that it was wrong. The glass vessel the child had been drawn inside of was upside down. The baby should have been a clear representation of a hermaphrodite, either half black and half white with both sets of genitalia, or at the very least drawn with two heads. But the baby in the image she was looking at was very clearly a little girl, with long black hair.

Turning the page gently she perused the next image in the series. But it too was fundamentally flawed. Every image she examined featured some kind of mistake that threw into question all of the research Diana had completed thus far.

She turned another page carefully, making sure she wouldn’t damage the fragile images painted onto the heavy parchment, and froze when the setting sun caught the page just right. There was text written upon it, but it was far too faint to read. Diana blinked away the glare from her eyes and tried to focus again, only to find that the words had started moving.

No, that wasn’t right. It couldn’t be.

Words didn’t move.

She must have been seeing things.

Diana shook her head forcefully to try and clear it, but when she looked again the text was still rapidly flying across the page.

She did her best to try and read what it said, but the letters were written far too faintly and were moving too quickly. And Diana was starting to feel nauseous from being that close to the pages, with the scent there so heady.

It was only when she noticed the text transfer from the page and begin making its way up the arm that was holding it that she moved, dropping the parchment down and slamming the book closed. Diana pressed her palm to the front cover to keep the book closed and then quickly withdrew it. Some kind of static charge had passed between it and her hand, and as she looked down into her open palm, she could have sworn that a faint imprint of the book’s cover image was lingering upon her skin.

“Diana? Is everything okay?”

The sound of Sean’s voice startled her and she jumped in place before turning to face her friend.

“Yeah. I uh… I just don’t feel great.” It wasn’t a lie. Everything she’d experience that evening had left her feeling off-kilter, and all she could think of doing was putting as much distance as possible between herself and Ashmole 782.

“You’ve gone really pale,” her friend worried. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll clean up here.”

Diana wanted to protest. It wasn’t fair to leave Sean to clean up her mess. But instead of voicing that protest she found herself offering him a thanks as she stuffed her notebook and laptop back into her bag, and hurried from the building.

Diana was so shaken from her encounter with Ashmole 782 that she didn’t notice the man that followed her all the way back to her rooms at New College.


	7. Chapter 7

Matthew had been doing his best to keep his distance from Diana Bishop in the weeks that followed her magical display in the library. For those first few days he’d found himself watching the witch everywhere she went, hoping to get some answers about who she was.

_And what she was._

It wasn’t until Miriam had called on the third day, demanding to know why she was the only one turning up for work every day when it was _his_ laboratory and _his_ research they were conducting, that he was forced to admit he was perhaps becoming a little _too_ fascinated by the mystery the young Bishop witch had presented. So he resolved to keep his distance, only allowing himself to watch as she glided her way down the river every morning. After all, she insisted on leaving her rooms before the sun came up, and one never knew what was lurking in the shadows.

That afternoon, he’d been on his way to a bar to meet with Miriam and Marcus when it happened.

Matthew felt a crackle of electricity that seemed to zip through his body, filling him with a need he’d never felt before. A charge had infused the air in Oxford, calling out to all of the creatures in the city, luring them in with the promise of something wondrous.

The blood that normally moved sluggishly through his veins seemed to rush faster as his heart pumped harder. And for a brief moment, Matthew felt almost human once again.

Whatever had been released into the atmosphere was calling to him, urging him to move, to seek it out and to claim it for himself. But it took him a beat too long to realize where that siren-song was coming from.

_The Bodleian._

Matthew's legs were moving before he was aware of his desire to run. They carried him down the familiar streets at a pace that was just fast enough not to arouse the warmbloods’ suspicions as his mind began screaming at him.

There was only one creature in Oxford that would be in the Bodleian Library at this time of the day, on a Saturday evening. And there was only one creature in the city who didn’t seem to be aware that there was a supernatural side to the world she lived in.

Whatever Diana Bishop had done was huge, of that he was certain. The kind of magic that was coursing through his veins and vibrating every particle of his being was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. And if every other creature in the city could feel it too, he knew it was the kind of magic they would do _anything_ to experience again.

Matthew only hoped that he could get to Diana before someone else would.

If she was truly unaware of the supernatural beings living side-by-side with humans, then she was in even more danger than he’d initially believed. There was no way the creature population of Oxford would believe that a Bishop witch was unaware of her heritage. And there was no telling what they’d do to try and force her into recreating whatever had just happened.

When he was close to the library, Matthew forced himself to slow his steps. He’d spent years carefully curating a professional image for himself, and running down the streets into the library after a graduate student wasn’t going to help with that image.

The vibrations of his phone in the breasts pocket of his jacket had his steps faltering for a moment, and Matthew pulled it out to see Miriam’s name illuminating the screen. He didn’t hesitate to silence the call and slide it back into his pocket. Whatever she needed could wait.

His heightened senses were already honing in on the other creatures in the area. There weren’t many vampires living in Oxford, but the daemons and witches were already headed his way, whispering about what could have possibly caused the event they’d all felt. Which meant that he didn’t have long to get Diana as far away from the library as he possibly could.

_Maybe he could lure her back to his rooms at All Souls with the promise of a book that would help with her research proposal?_

Matthew was startled out of his musings when the door to the library was shoved open, and Diana Bishop emerged out into the courtyard. She was dressed just as she had been earlier that morning when he’d seen her leave her rooms at New College, but she was much paler than she had been before. And with every few steps she took, she turned to look back over her shoulder and shifted the strap of her bag a little higher up her arm before moving again.

Whatever had happened inside of the library had clearly rattled her, which meant that she wasn’t as unaware of her magic as Matthew had first thought her to be. Whatever had happened inside of the building she’d sensed too, but it seemed to have had a completely different effect on the young witch than it did the rest of the creature population.

“Miss Bishop?” he called out, as she approached the place where he was standing. But Diana either didn’t hear him or didn’t want to acknowledge him, as she simply shifted her bag once more and hurried straight past him.

Matthew took a moment to consider his options before he turned to follow the young graduate student. He told himself that he was only doing so to make sure that she got home safely and that no other creatures followed her back. But it wasn’t the first time that Matthew had followed the witch, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. Every time he encountered Diana Bishop the mystery surrounding her just seemed to deepen.

And Matthew had always loved solving a good mystery.

That, he told himself, was all he was doing with the witch. He was simply attempting to solve the mystery surrounding her.

But even after making sure that she was back in her rooms, safe and sound, Matthew couldn’t bring himself to leave. Instead, he found himself climbing a drainpipe to situate himself on a rooftop a few buildings over from her own, that gave him a direct view straight into her lounge. He didn’t abandon his spot until he saw Diana Bishop leave her home the following morning, headed for the boathouse once again.


	8. Chapter 8

Diana had hoped that some time spent on the river that morning would help her relax and shake off whatever the opening of Ashmole 782 had done to her the day before. But as she propelled herself down the Cherwell, she found her strokes more aggressive and haphazard than ever before.

The flurry of snow drifting across her skin wasn’t helping matters. Diana had never been more aware of it than she was at that moment.

When she lost control of her strokes and the front of her shell collided with the edge of the embankment, she decided that enough was enough. Diana steered herself down to a small dock close to a local pub before pulling herself up and out of the boat, and then the boat from the water.

“I know you’re here,” she called out. Her voice was oddly calm given the storm of emotions whirling inside of her. “You might as well show yourself… _Professor Clairmont_.”

For the longest moment, she was sure he wasn’t going to reveal himself, and Diana actually started questioning her sanity a little. _Had she imagined the feel of his gaze on her skin?_ But when the shadows near the deserted pub began to move, she knew that she’d been right. He’d been watching her every morning since their chance encounter at the Bodleian, at the start of term.

“Why are you following me?” she asked, as Clairmont took one final step forward to bring himself out of the darkness and into the early morning light.

“I’m not.”

“Don’t lie to me. I can feel you watching me every day. So why are you following me, Professor Clairmont?”

Diana watched as his mask of calm cracked a little when he realized that she’d been able to sense his presence all along, but it wasn’t enough to tell her what he was thinking.

“Someone needs to make sure that you’re safe,” was all he said, and Diana’s anger flared brighter with his vague reply.

“Safe? From what, Professor? _You’re_ the one following me! If anyone here is a danger to me, I’d argue it’s the professor who stalks his students.”

“I’m neither stalking you, nor your professor,” he reminded her gently.

“Oh, I’m sure that will make _all_ the difference when I report you to the head of your department.” Diana folded her arms over her chest as she waited for Clairmont to attempt to try and defend himself. But he remained just as stubbornly silent as she was.

“What do you want from me, Professor?”

“I told you before, I just want to make sure that you’re safe.”

“Safe from what?”

Clairmont’s mask of neutrality remained firmly fixed in place as he stood silently before her. Diana contemplated hitting him to see if that would finally get it to crack again, but before she could begin listing all of the reasons why that wouldn’t be a good idea, he finally spoke.

“From whoever is the first to work out that it was _you_ in the library yesterday evening, and that _you_ were the one who caused the disturbance felt throughout the city. And they will, Diana. They _will_ find out that it was you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied, because how could he have possibly known what had happened? She was alone virtually all day in the Duke Humphries Reading Room. She’d have known if he was there. She’d have felt it.

“Really? Because it looked to me like you’d felt it too when you left the building last night.”

Diana wanted to be outraged that he’d obviously been following her for longer than she’d thought, but her mind was stuck on his words instead. _Had he felt that same sense of unease that she’d experienced? Why hadn’t Sean said anything about it at the time?_

“What did you do, Diana?”

“I didn’t _do_ anything. I just… why am I even discussing this with you?”

“Because I might be the only person in this city who can keep you safe. So tell me, what did you do, Diana?”

Clairmont took a small step forward, not large enough to come across as threatening, but just close enough for her to see the concern in the corners of his eyes. Whatever his reasons had been for following her, Diana knew that he truly believed he was keeping her safe somehow.

“I told you, I didn’t _do_ anything. I just opened this manuscript and…”

“Which manuscript?”

Clairmont looked like he wanted to reach out and hold onto her arms, almost like he knew that what she was about to say would end up changing both of their lives forever. But instead, he balled his hands into fists by his side as he waited for her reply.

“An Ashmole manuscript,” she whispered.

Clairmont’s face showed no signs of change but Diana could almost sense his body tensing under the all-black ensemble he was wearing once again. “Which manuscript?” he repeated. His eyes locked with hers, pleading with Diana to trust him, to open up to him, and she was helpless to refuse.

“Ashmole 782.”

Professor Clairmont’s mask finally shattered as the series of numbers fell from Diana’s lips. A number of emotions flashed across his face before he finally pulled himself back together, but it had been too much for him to hide from her. Diana realized with a start that clearly the book had some special meaning to him.

“Are you sure it was 782?” he asked.

“Yes. I might only be a lowly grad student, Professor, but I’m not illiterate.”

Clairmont shook his head fondly at her feisty reply, but Diana’s anger was returning once more and the action seemed more infuriating than adorable at that moment.

“How did you find the book?”

“The same way that I find all of the books for my research proposal. I filled in the request slip, handed it to Sean, and the books were waiting for me an hour later.”

Matthew was almost frozen with his surprise as he tried to process the implications of what Diana had just said. _Could the missing Ashmole manuscript really have been in the Bodleian Library all this time?_

“And where is it now?” he pressed, because if that manuscript was what had caused the disturbance the day before, then Diana was in much bigger trouble than he’d initially thought.

“In the library,” she replied slowly.

“You returned the book?”

“Of course I did. I wasn’t about to _steal_ a manuscript from the Bod. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Matthew ignored her question in favor of the ones racing through his mind. The book was finally in touching distance and a large part of himself was urging the rest of his body to _move_. To run to the Bodleian and take it for himself before someone else could. But something kept his feet rooted to the floor – or, more accurately, someone.

“Would you care for some company in the library this morning, Miss Bishop?” he asked after a moment, as he offered her a small, charming smile.

Diana simply huffed in his direction before turning back to her boat to ease it down onto the water once again.


	9. Chapter 9

Diana wasn’t shocked to find Professor Clairmont sat at her usual reading desk in the library later that afternoon. He’d opted for the side opposite the one she favored and looked to have been there for a while, given the stack of books and papers that surrounded him. While she wasn’t surprised to see him, she still couldn’t quite believe the man had the audacity to turn up there so soon after their conversation about his stalking tendencies that morning.

“Miss Bishop,” he offered in greeting.

Diana dropped her books onto the desk a little more forcefully than she normally would before she busied herself with removing her jacket. Clairmont barely lifted his head from his work, but that didn’t stop her from noticing the small smile that curved at the corners of his lips when she huffed a little with her frustration.

“Professor Clairmont,” she bit back. “Isn’t there some other student that you could be annoying this afternoon?”

Clairmont didn’t offer her a response, instead, he turned his attention back to his own work as Sean approached the desk with the manuscripts that Diana had requested in his arms.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, picking up on the tension between the two people at the table. He set the books down carefully in Diana’s preferred spot as his gaze flicked back and forth between the two of them.

“It’s fine,” Diana assured him. She gave Sean a soft smile of thanks as she settled herself down into her seat, but he didn’t look convinced by it and lingered a moment longer to see if she would say anything else. When it became apparent that the professor wasn’t the only person she was ignoring that afternoon, Sean headed back to the call desk with a frown of confusion creasing his face.

He could have sworn the man sat with Diana Bishop was a scientist, not a historian.

Diana tried her hardest to focus on her research that afternoon. She wasn’t sure what Clairmont was doing, but his pen seemed to flow over his page at a consistent speed, so she assumed he had some of his own work to do. His concentration on the pages in front of him made it much easier for Diana to ignore him than she had expected. She was just closing her first manuscript to pull another towards her when Clairmont finally lifted his head from where it had been bent over his work since she’d arrived.

“It’s a little busy in here today, wouldn’t you say?” he whispered.

She hadn’t really given it much thought, but as Diana lifted her own head to scan the room, she was surprised to find that he was right. The library wasn’t by any means crowded, but normally there were only a dozen other students at desks scattered around the room. That afternoon, there were at least twice as many people in the space.

“Maybe they’re studying for a test? Or working on a paper,” she suggested. It was a university, after all.

Clairmont hummed his agreement but kept his gaze trained on her face. “The man three down on your left doesn’t even have books with him,” he eventually stated, before freeing her from his stare to turn his attention back to whatever it was that he was working on.

Diana wasn’t sure how the professor had known that, considering his back was to the guy in question. But now that he’d mentioned it, she couldn’t help but notice how many people were there looking busy, but actually doing nothing at all.

“It doesn’t matter,” she hissed at him. “I’m not gonna -”

Diana’s words were cut short by the sharp look Clairmont turned on her. While his lips said nothing at all, his eyes were screaming their message loud and clear. She needed to stop talking - Now! The hard look behind his stare had her adrenaline rising as every fiber of her being screamed that there was something _wrong_ with the professor. His absolute stillness was unnerving, and the way his eyes held her own made her feel a little like a deer, stunned by metaphorical headlights.

When she swallowed heavily around the lump of fear that had lodged itself in her throat, Clairmont’s trance broke. His nostrils flared a little and he blinked a couple of time’s in rapid succession, before finally relaxing back into his seat. The professor opened his mouth, presumably to offer her some kind of apology, but it wasn’t his voice that she heard calling her name.

“Diana? I thought I’d find you here. Is everything okay?”

Diana turned her attention away from the enigmatic man still staring at her to offer her friend the easiest smile she could muster. But Gillian appeared to be too busy glaring at Clairmont to notice it.

“Yeah, it’s all good. Professor Clairmont and I were just having a little debate. I guess we got a bit too heated.”

Gillian didn’t look terribly convinced by her friend’s words as her gaze swept from Diana, over to the man sitting opposite her, and then back again.

“I should be leaving now anyway. Good luck with the rest of your research, Miss Bishop.” Clairmont has somehow already managed to gather his own belongings and stood in one fluid movement, before taking his leave. Gillian didn’t pull her eyes away from his figure until he disappeared completely from her line of sight.

“Is everything okay?” she asked again, as she dropped down into the seat beside her friend. It wasn’t lost on Diana that she’d passed up the chair Clairmont had vacated.

“Yeah. The professor just has some strong opinions on my research topic,” she lied. “What about you? How was your meeting?”

Gillian either chose to ignore her question or didn’t hear it at all, as she asked, “How do you know him?”

“Professor Clairmont? He’s here in the library sometimes doing his own research when I am. Why?”

“You shouldn’t be spending time with him, Diana. He’s not to be trusted.”

“What do you mean he’s not to be trusted? He’s a _professor_. What’s he supposed to have done?” she asked.

“Nothing, he’s just… it’s just some rumors I heard at the start of term.”

Diana wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she was absolutely certain that Gillian Chamberlaine was lying to her at that moment.

“I think you should stay away from him,” her friend continued. “You know, just to be safe.”

“Okay,” Diana agreed.

She didn’t exactly have plans to track Professor Clairmont down any time soon, but she also knew that she wasn’t going to be actively attempting to keep her promise to Gillian either. Her friend was lying to her, and Diana _hated_ being lied to. Gillian knew something about the professor that she didn’t, which only made her more interested in finding out what Matthew Clairmont was really hiding.


	10. Chapter 10

As soon as Diana pushed away from the bank the following morning, she knew that something was wrong. The usual flurry of snow that told her Professor Clairmont was watching over her was gone, and in its place was something colder and harsher. She was still being watched, but the person surveilling her wasn’t the enigmatic professor.

Diana tried to push aside the unease she felt as she made her way down the river. She told herself that whoever it was watching her had been presented with plenty of opportunities to attack while she’d been preparing her shell, and they’d chosen not to. Which meant that she was probably safe.

_At least, she hoped she was safe._

As she glided over the water she allowed that sense of serenity to wash over her once more, drowning out all of her concerns and insecurities as it did, until memories of Ashmole 782 and the effect it’d had on her were virtually erased from her mind.

The moment she stepped back out onto the embankment her calm and carefree attitude vanished, as those spikes of ice felt like they were being driven into her back again. A part of her toyed with the idea of calling out her newest stalker, the same way she had with Clairmont the day before. But without knowing who was watching her, Diana didn’t want to risk doing something reckless while she was alone.

That feeling of being followed only disappeared when she stepped back on campus later that morning and joined her group of friends, ready to start her day.

* * *

“Did you wanna head to the library?” Gillian asked, as they packed away their stuff at the end of their lecture.

“Yeah. I still have a ton of research left to do before I even think about submitting this next draft. And with all our other deadlines ahead of us, I’m starting to panic about getting it done on time.”

“Welcome to life as a grad student,” her friend teased, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “And if it makes you feel any better, I still haven’t honed my proposal down yet. All I know is that I love studying Ancient Egypt, so I wanna stay in that area.”

“It’ll come to you,” Diana assured her, as the two women made their way out of the room and headed for the exit. “Usually at the worst time and in the worst place. Mine came to me in the shower one morning.”

“I’m normally more of a bath girl, but I might have to start switching to showers in that case,” Gillian teased.

Everything seemed so perfectly normal as the two women made their way to the Bodleian that Diana almost forgot about what had happened the day before. That illusion of normalcy was shattered, however, the moment she stepped into the Seldon End of the Duke Humphries reading room.

The space was even busier than it had been the previous day!

Diana recognized a few of the people inside the room, including the one guy who was once again sat staring at the desktop without any books around him. But most of the people she had never seen before.

“What’s up with all of this?” she whispered to her friend.

“Huh. What do you mean?”

Even without being able to see her face, Diana could tell that Gillian was hiding something from her again. Her friend’s tone was far too nonchalant to be genuine.

“The library’s _never_ this busy,” she pressed, as they took their seats at their usual table. “I don’t even recognize half of these people.”

“Well, it’s a big university, Diana. Maybe they have papers due soon? Or an exam to revise for?”

“In October? I highly doubt that,” she snorted out, as she began setting up her laptop. While she waited for it to load, Diana filled out a request slip and took it over to Sean before making her way back to their table.

As she settled herself down that feeling of being watched returned. Whoever was following her had a gaze like icy daggers, drilling into the side of her head with every step she took. Diana did her best to try and scan the area for some sign of her new stalker, but nobody seemed to be paying her much attention.

She tried to pull her mind away from everything that was happening that day and steer it towards the research that she needed to finish. But even without Clairmont in the room, his presence wouldn’t seem to leave her. Diana could hear his words playing on a loop in her mind every time she looked up and found the room busier than it had been before.

_“And they will, Diana. They_ will _find out that it was you.”_

These people couldn’t possibly have been in the library for her, could they?

A part of her wanted to talk to someone about what had happened, just so they could assure her that she wasn’t going crazy. But with Gillian hiding something from her, Diana’s gut was telling her not to confide in her friend. She knew she couldn’t bring it up with Sarah and Em either. That would only worry them both, and the last thing she needed was for her aunts to board a plane to England just because they were worried about her mental stability. That really only left Diana with one option, but she still wasn’t sure how much she could trust Professor Clairmont. It was obvious that he was hiding something from her too, even if it felt like that something was in touching distance of her understanding.

“Diana Bishop?”

“Yes?” she asked, a little louder than she had intended, as she lifted her head to see who had called her name. Diana had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t seen the man approaching their reading bench.

“I’m sorry to have startled you,” he offered. “I saw you from across the room and I just wanted to take a moment to introduce myself. My name’s Peter Knox. I was a friend of your mother’s.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I had a small health scare and had to step away from fandom life as a result of that.**

_“… My name’s Peter Knox. I was a friend of your mother’s.”_

Diana sat in stunned silence for a moment before she eventually asked, “You uh… you knew my mother?”

“Yes. I knew her when she was your age,” he explained, taking another step closer to their reading bench. “I’m sorry, this is so rude of me. I just… you look so much like her that I had to say something.”

“Oh, um… That’s okay,” she assured him. “You caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Diana knew there was more to the unease that was churning in her belly than just being caught off guard. Something about the man stood in front of her didn’t feel right, and the way that he’d gone about introducing himself came across as far too rehearsed to have been genuine. Besides, what were the odds that an old friend of her mothers would just happen to run into Diana in the library that afternoon, so soon after her encounter with Ashmole 782.

“I apologize for that. Maybe I could buy you a cup of coffee one day to make up for it?” he offered. Diana has just opened her mouth to decline his offer when a smug smile began curling at the corners of his lips, and Knox added, “Or maybe you’d prefer tea, like your mother used to?”

All of Diana’s instincts were screaming at that moment for her to get the hell out of the library and as far away from Peter Knox as she could. The man in front of her radiated carefully controlled danger in a way that she’d never felt before, and Diana shot a brief look over to Gillian, hoping that her friend would provide her with some kind of backup. But Gillian simply offered her a small, reassuring smile before turning her attention back to her work.

Diana was smart enough to know that packing up and running away wouldn’t help her case right then, so instead, she did her best to fix what she hoped was a reassuring smile on her face as she gave Knox an answer. “I like both. And I’m uh… I’m a little busy at the moment with school, but if you have a card, maybe I could call you sometime?”

Diana had absolutely no intention of ever using that card, but Peter Knox didn’t need to know that.

“Of course,” he agreed, his smile faltering slightly at her rejection as he fished inside of his breast pocket for a small, white business card. When he handed it over, Diana took a moment just to scan the information on it, and her heart sank when she saw what was written there.

“You work at the university?”

“Just in a guest capacity. I specialize in studies of the occult, so I’m occasionally called upon to offer my experience to some of the students whose educational paths lead them in that direction. The university has been kind enough to provide me with resources to help with that.”

Diana should have guessed that his academic area of specialty would end up being just as creepy as the man stood before her. And with him assisting students on campus, she knew that avoiding Peter Knox wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d first thought it would be.

“Then I’m sure our paths will cross again soon,” she stated, because she was confident Knox would ensure that. “But right now, Mr. Knox, I really need to get back to my work. I have a meeting with my advisor later this week, and I want to have the rest of this section done before then.”

Knox’s smile fell a little further but he recovered quickly and took a small step back from the table as he did. “Of course. I remember how important Rebecca’s work was to her. It’s only natural that you’d have inherited her drive and passion in that respect. I hope to see you again soon, Miss. Bishop.”

Diana felt a little nauseous uttering the words, “You too,” but she did so with a smile, hoping that would be the last she saw of Peter Knox for the foreseeable future.

* * *

“Did you think that was a little odd?” Diana asked, as she and Gillian left the library two hours later with a few thousand more words down on paper.

“Huh?”

“Peter Knox. Didn’t that whole thing seem a little off to you?”

“In what way?” Gillian asked. “He seemed nice enough to me.”

“I dunno. I guess I just… bringing up my dead mom seems like an odd way to start a conversation,” she explained, because now that she was talking it through with her friend, Diana was starting to worry that maybe she’d overreacted to the entire meeting. The unease she’d felt from opening Ashmole 782 still lingered in the pit of her stomach, and Professor Clairmont’s words still echoed around the edges of her mind.

_Was it possible that she’d just been projecting all of that onto someone who was simply trying to be nice to her?_

“I thought he seemed pretty sweet. Clearly, your mum made a huge impression on him if he felt the need to come and introduce himself to you.” When Diana’s frown didn’t budge, Gillian hastened to add, “Maybe this is one of those cultural divide things? I don’t think you need to read too much into it, Diana. I honestly think Mr. Knox was just trying to be friendly. He knows that you’re an American in a foreign country. He’s probably just trying to make you feel more at ease here.”

Diana didn’t like the sheer about of guesswork that was present in Gillian’s attempts to reassure her. But if her friend wasn’t overly worried about the strange man that had approached them that afternoon, she was going to do her best not to be either. So Diana stamped down on the apprehension building inside of her and joined her friend, as the two women left the university’s campus to head to their favorite local pub.

* * *

That feeling of weightlessness that came with being on the water was a soothing balm to Diana’s soul as she glided under the Donnington Bridge. Sleep hadn’t come easy for her the night before, but the smell of freshly cut grass that tinged the air, and the cool breeze that washed over her face, was far more relaxing than a full seven hours would ever be.

Diana was so lost in that rhythmic push and pull of her oars that she didn’t even realize the usual coldness that would accompany her morning workout was gone - until it was replaced with something much sharper. Her eyes snapped open as her movements faltered, and Diana turned as best she could in the small shell to survey her surroundings. She couldn’t see anyone on the embankment, but she knew someone was there.

She knew exactly who was there.

As her mind began whirling with all of the different possible actions she could take at that moment, Diana forced herself to begin her strokes again as she carried on taking her usual route down the river. She needed to get home, behind the safety of a locked door before she did anything about her newest stalker. And the best way to get there without alerting him to her awareness of his presence was to behave as if everything was normal.

Diana’s strokes came a little harder and a little faster as she turned her shell in the widest part of the river and then began heading back to the boathouse. His gaze was more prominent there, and she hurried to put away her equipment and grab her jacket before heading back to New College at a slight jog. Whoever was watching her was following, and their eyes on her form felt like a dagger had been plunged into her back.

The moment she had the door to her rooms closed and locked behind her, Diana allowed herself a moment to sink back into the wood as she tried to force her racing heart to calm.

_“…I just want to make sure that you’re safe.”_

The words came from nowhere to shatter the panic building inside of her and suddenly Diana knew what she had to do. She pushed herself away from the door and made her way over to where her crowded desk was sat in front of the largest window in the space. It took her a few moments of frantic searching through books and under notepads to find what she was looking for, but when she did, the unease in her stomach finally settled into something more manageable.

Diana pulled her cell phone from her bag and quickly tapped out the number printed on the small piece of card before hitting send. When the line connected she didn’t even allow the person on the other end of it to speak before she voiced what was on her mind.

“Professor Clairmont, it’s Diana Bishop. I think I need your help.”


	12. Chapter 12

Matthew had been busy analyzing a sample of blood that Marcus had brought back from his travels with him when his phone began to ring. He didn’t pull his eyes away from the results displayed on the monitor while he fished the device from his pocket, but he did flick them down to check the screen before he pushed the answer button. The number was unknown to him, but the international dialing code gave Matthew a fairly good indication of who might be trying to reach him that morning.

“Professor Clairmont, it’s Diana Bishop. I think I need your help,” she said, before he could finish lifting the phone to his ear.

Matthew shot Miriam and Marcus a look that had them sighing as they reached for their jackets before storming out of the building. Neither one of them could understand their friend’s obsession with the Bishop witch, even if she did seem unsure of her heritage. After all, she wouldn’t be the first witch in the world who was raised not knowing what she was. But Matthew wouldn’t even entertain their questions about just why she was so important to him, which meant that he was hiding something bigger from them both.

When the door finally clicked shut behind his friends, Matthew reached out to flick off the monitor in front of him as he asked, “What can I do for you, Miss Bishop?”

For all of the urgency she had shown when the call had first connected, Diana Bishop took her time answering his question. If it hadn’t been for his impressive hearing skills, Matthew would have been worried that the call had dropped, or that maybe she’d hung up on him. But he could hear her exhaling over the line, which meant that she was probably just trying to find the right words to express what she wanted to say.

When she finally spoke again, it was with a kind of doubt coloring her tone that he hadn’t been expecting.

“You’re uh… you’re a member of the university’s faculty, right? So you know other faculty members.”

“I know some of them,” he answered carefully. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Matthew might have known all of the names of the faculty at Oxford University, but he only knew a handful of them well enough to talk to. “It’s a big staff, Miss Bishop.”

“Do you uh… do you maybe know of a man called Peter Knox?”

If Matthew had been human, he was certain his blood would have run cold at the mention of that name.

“I know _of_ him,” he replied, keeping his tone as even as he could. “How do you?”

As far as he was aware, Peter Knox was rarely involved in day-to-day issues on campus, and his area of specialty wasn’t anywhere near close to what Matthew had seen of Diana’s research proposal. Aside from them both being witches, Knox had absolutely no reason to be anywhere near Diana while she was at school.

“He found me in the library yesterday. He said that he used to know my mother and that he wanted to come over and say hi, but…”

“But…” Matthew prodded, when she’d remained silent for far too long. He wasn’t sure when he’d stood from his seat, but the mention of Peter Knox’s name had him pacing the floor as a way to work out the tension building inside of him.

“Something’s not right. I know I probably sound crazy but I don’t… I don’t trust him. I don’t feel safe around him. And I know he’s been following me. I haven’t seen him but I can _feel_ him watching me. My friend Gillian thinks I’m being paranoid, but there’s something not right about this, Professor Clairmont. And I didn’t know who else to turn to for advice.”

Matthew’s eyes slid shut as he clenched his free hand tight against his thigh. He knew that Diana would become a target after she’d found the book - he just hadn’t expected her to be targeted by one of her own, and certainly not so soon. Now that Knox was involved, things were about to become even more complicated.

While he was practically worshipped by his own kind, Matthew knew that Peter Knox wasn’t to be trusted. And he certainly didn’t trust the man around a young, naïve and unknowing Bishop witch. He’d heard the whispers about Knox’s obsession with Diana’s mother, and in particular, the powers she’d displayed. There was no way Matthew was going to leave Diana to suffer the same fate. Not if there was anything he could do to stop it.

_God, the things he wanted to do to Peter Knox at that moment…_

“Professor Clairmont?” Diana whispered, startling him out of the darkness that was beginning to plague his mind. “Are you still there?”

“Yes. Sorry. I um… are you safe?”

“I’m in my rooms,” she replied carefully.

Matthew was already moving around the lab, doing everything that needed doing to close it down so that he could leave. “Good. Stay there,” he told her.

He was pretty sure that Diana would be safe in her college dorm. Peter Knox wouldn’t want to risk making some kind of scene and outing himself in the process. The punishment for such a crime was far too harsh for him to chance it. But Matthew also knew that wouldn’t deter him for long. Knox would find another way to get to Diana, and then she’d be in even more danger.

“You uh… you don’t think he’d hurt me, do you?”

Matthew wished that he could tell her no. The fear that tinged the edges of her voice was so unlike the strong confidence he’d come to expect from Diana Bishop. And it was almost painful to hear.

“He’s been following you, Diana. I don’t think you should take that chance,” he argued instead, as he grabbed his jacket and fled from the building. Matthew was almost certain that Knox had probably given up and gone home, now that the streets were starting to become busier. It would be hard for someone like him to explain why he was lingering outside of New College if he was caught. But Matthew also knew that he’d feel better when he could see Diana with his own eyes again.

“You’ve been following me too,” she pointed out.

“I know,” was all he said, because Matthew couldn’t deny that he was a danger to her too. While every single instinct inside of him was busy screaming that she needed to be protected, those same instincts were also demanding that he take her and consume her every time he saw her. Diana Bishop wasn’t truly safe around him, and as much as that pained him to admit, Matthew knew it also helped him to control those warring instincts inside of himself.

“Should uh… should I report him?” she finally asked, and he was oddly grateful that she hadn’t picked at his last statement. Matthew had a feeling that Diana knew he wasn’t entirely safe to be around either. But she’d clearly decided he could be trusted more than Peter Knox could be.

“No. That might end up causing you more problems,” he reasoned. “Peter Knox is a highly respected academic in this town, and he frequently consults with the police. It would be your word against his and I can’t guarantee they’d listen to you.”

“Then what do I do, Professor Clairmont? I can’t stay locked in my rooms forever. I have a lecture in two hours! I’m not wasting this opportunity I’ve been given because some creepy guy thinks I look like my mother.”

Matthew had to fight back the smile that was tugging at his lips at the fierceness of Diana’s declaration. That was more like what he’d come to know of the young Bishop witch. And he had a feeling that if Peter Knox pushed her far enough, the old warlock might end up getting a nasty surprise of his own.

“You carry on as normal,” Matthew instructed calmly. “Peter Knox won’t approach you while you’re on your way to classes. He won’t want to do anything that could draw unwanted attention to himself. He loves his reputation too much to risk damaging it.”

“And what about when I’m not in classes? He found me in the library and he was watching me on the river this morning. I’m not giving those up just because of him.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure that Peter Knox knows you’re not alone at those times.”

“And how are _we_ going to do that?” she challenged, the sass in her voice more evident than ever before.

“Don’t worry about that. You have a class to prepare for,” Matthew reminded her. “I’ll speak with you soon, Miss Bishop.”

He disconnected the line before Diana could say anything else. But even from his place hidden in the shadows, Matthew could just make out a huff of irritation from the direction of her dorm room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thanks for sticking with me as I battle through my health issues. It'll be a little longer before I get back to something resembling a normal posting schedule - but I hope to get there as soon as I can.**

**Author's Note:**

> **Thanks for reading.**


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